Under the Tree
by mysticgirl1713
Summary: Voldemort has died and the wizarding war has finally ended. However, the past horrors continue to haunt Hermione Granger, and it is underneath a red maple tree that she learns she is not alone in her struggle. DM/HG
1. Autumn

**A/N--So this is a four part story that I started. It's much shorter than other things I have posted-which is fine cause most of my attention is focused on An Unbreakable Vow anyway. It's a little different than my typical writing...lots and lots of dialogue, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless!**

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**Under the Tree**

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's quite sad._

_****Autumn****_

Leaves of crimson and gold danced through the crisp evening air as Hermione Granger found herself sitting in the shade of a tall red maple once again. The tree was positioned a few meters away from a small lake giving her a clear view of the gentle ripples as the breeze wisped across the surface. She sat against the trunk of the tree, her legs curled against her chest as her head rested on her knees. In the past few weeks, this tree had become her safe haven, a place to go when she needed to escape the pressures of school and have time for herself.

_Which,_ she thought with a sigh,_ was becoming more often than she liked. _

Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort nearly four months ago and yet Hermione could feel the war following her everywhere she went; she saw the empty desks of some of her old friends, the sad smiles of those who had lost family, and even as she slept, her mind would replay the horrors of that final battle in a cruel, hellish nightmare.

As if facing the horrifying memories wasn't difficult enough, she was forced to face them all alone. The seemingly unbreakable bonds between Hermione and each of her friends had been strained far beyond anything she thought possible during the final stages of the war until most of them were left irreparable. It had been no one's fault, it was just how things happened.

The faint sound of footsteps caught her attention and she cocked her head to the side, surprised to see Draco Malfoy stop a few feet away from her. His blonde hair was uncharacteristically tousled and he didn't even spare her a glance before staring out over the lake pensively. She quickly noted the dark circles under his eyes and the frown on his face, not even a shadow of his typical smirk visible.

Hermione felt sympathy tug at her heart in a painfully familiar manner. She recognized the look on his face: the distant expression of uncertainty. It was the same expression that hid beneath her careful façade when she questioned her own future.

It seemed that Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger had something in common.

She cleared her throat lightly, pleased when his eyes flickered towards her impassively. She smiled lightly before gesturing to the ground beside her.

"You can join me if you'd like."

For a short moment, she thought he was going to leave, but he surprised her by stepping closer. He fell gracefully next to her, his back resting lightly against the trunk of the tree. With a quiet sigh, he let his head fall forward against his knee casually. Hermione offered him a sad smile before returning her attention to the lake.

A comfortable silence fell over them for a short moment before he spoke, his voice hauntingly smooth.

"What do I do now?" he asked quietly.

Hermione glanced at him, surprised to see him turn his head towards her in response. She waited patiently for him to continue, and when he didn't, she gently encouraged him.

"What do you mean?"

His eyes flashed darkly before narrowing and looking away from her, obviously unsure if he wanted to tell her.

"My entire life was built on lies," he mumbled, almost to himself. "I was raised with the understanding that muggle-borns and half-bloods were inferior to pure-bloods, and for the longest time, I honestly believed that it was true. My family had a history of following the Dark Lord, and I knew I would face the same fate."

He paused, glancing at Hermione shortly.

"What was the point in trying to escape in the inevitable?"

"Nothing is inevitable," Hermione amended softly, earning a grunt from him as he looked back towards the lake.

"That was my first lesson in the war," he continued. "When my father first told me I was getting the Dark Mark, I was pleased; I was finally preparing to face my future, but the act itself was an experience I would give almost anything to take back."

His eyes closed, his hands balled into tight fists and Hermione bit back her growing curiosity, knowing she had to be patient.

"There was a little boy," he finally whispered. "He couldn't have been more than eight years old. He was crying, calling for someone to help him but no one would. He pleaded with me as though I had a choice in the matter. An eight year old boy knelt before me, begging for mercy, and I was too heartless to help him."

He paused again, his eyes open and now shining with disgust.

"It was the first time I used an Unforgivable Curse," he admitted bitterly. "They made me torture him before I could end his life. I tried desperately to convince myself that he deserved it; he was a muggle and therefore unworthy to exist, but I couldn't get him out of my head. His voice haunted me everywhere I went and I began to question everything I had come to learn. If muggles were really as awful as everyone said, it should have been easier to kill him."

Hermione stared at him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She wanted to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, assure him that she understood and that it was just a regrettable past mistake, but was stunned into silence when he suddenly pulled back his sleeve, revealing his Dark Mark.

"And now _this,_" he spat angrily. "is etched into my arm forever; a constant reminder of the monster I am, a monster who's destiny was so certain, so wrong that now, after everything—"

He cut off sharply, turning to Hermione. He looked utterly defeated as his eyes searched hers before he finished in a hushed tone.

"I am nothing."

"That's not true," Hermione immediately argued earning a scoff from the Slytherin.

"So quick to defend, Granger," he chastised, "but you're wrong. There is nothing good about me; I'm just an empty man who led an empty life."

"Don't say that!"

Draco looked at her slowly, his face solemn as his lips curled into a pitiful smirk.

"I don't have a future," he said quietly, "the future I once had was one thrust upon me, a future that died the second Voldemort stopped breathing, and now I have nothing"

"No one can decide your future for you," Hermione whispered gently. "And you are whatever you decide to be; only you can choose who you are."

He stared at her before shaking his head in disbelief.

"How is it so easy for you to forgive me?" he asked, his tone guarded.

Hermione shrugged, pondering the question herself; Draco had undoubtedly been one of her least favorite people through her years of schooling. He had treated her with merciless malice and clearly hated her for reasons that she couldn't control.

_But,_ she thought as she scanned his crushed expression, _maybe he didn't hate muggle-borns as much as he thought._

"What's passed is past," she finally responded with a sigh. "You aren't the same person you were last year, and I don't believe in grudges."

"But I am the same person," he argued irritably. "That's the problem; I haven't changed."

Hermione glared at him for a short moment before shaking her head firmly.

"That's not true. And the fact that you regret some of your past actions is proof enough for me."

The silence fell over them once again, the tension between them was nearly unbearable. Hermione tore her gaze away from him and looked back out towards the leaves floating across the surface of the lake peacefully.

"But I have nothing. No one."

Draco's voice was distant, thick with emotion and Hermione felt fresh tears gather in the corners of her eyes. He sounded so helpless, so alone. He had seen horrors in the war, become a person he couldn't stand. He was disgusted with himself, so sure that no one could accept him that he believed there was nothing left in life. She turned and saw the pain in his eyes as he stared at his hands intently.

He was scared. Scared and alone.

_Just like me,_ Hermione thought sadly.

"You always have a future," she said quietly, unsure if she was trying to convince Draco or herself. "Only death can take that away from you."

A gust of wind sent a torrent of leaves spiraling around them in an intense moment before she continued softly, hesitantly.

"And you're not alone—you have me."

He turned to face her for a brief moment, his grey eyes regarding her cautiously before returning his gaze to the lake. Hermione looked away as well, trying to decide if his silence was one of agreement or distaste. Warm colors of autumn suddenly painted the sky as leaves were whipped off the branches by another gust of wind.

"Hermione?"

Draco's unusually timid voice cut through the silence shakily.

The Gryffindor didn't move and said nothing, simply waited for him to continue.

"I'm sorry," he admitted, the shame in his voice evident.

Hermione considered his apology before turning to him with a small smile.

"I know."

It seemed as though she had made a new friend.

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**Please review-it'll make my day!! :)**


	2. Winter

**A/N--Alright, part two! :) It's significantly shorter, but I feel like that keeps with the theme of the seasons...it's dialogue heavy again, and mainly focuses on Draco's story. There are minor moments of HG/DM but most of them are just friendly gestures...don't worry it'll pick up through spring and summer! Enjoy!!**

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Under the Tree

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's quite sad._

_****Winter****_

Flurries twirled through the frosty air in majestic patterns as Hermione crunched through the snow-covered ground towards the lake. The tree was completely frozen, ice wrapped around the dead branches like delicate glass. As she got closer, she realized that Draco was already waiting for her, leaning against the tree with his knees pulled to his chest. If the snow on his shoulders was an indication, he had been there for a decent amount of time.

She sat down beside him, curling her legs beneath her.

It was still amazing to her how natural it had become. She and Draco had been meeting nearly every day since their first encounter, an unspoken agreement between the two former enemies. It was surprisingly easy to fall into the habit.

Hermione glanced at her friend with imploring brown eyes; despite their somewhat regular routine, it had been nearly two weeks since she last met him under the tree and she had begun to wonder if her trust had been misplaced. Yet, here he was, sitting beside her with a grave expression as he stared out over the frozen lake. She noticed the dark shadows beneath his eyes and felt her curiosity begin to build.

"Hey," she said quietly, earning a short grunt from Draco followed by silence.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably; the silence that surrounded them was unnerving and she quickly sought a way to remedy the problem.

"It's been a while since I've seen you," she said lamely, unsure of what to say.

Silence again.

Hermione sighed irritably before turning her gaze towards the lake as snowflakes continued to fall delicately to the ground. She glanced back towards the castle, a small part of her wondering if anyone noticed she was missing yet. A harsh voice cut through her reverie.

"They're dead."

The Gryffindor turned to see Draco staring at his hands which were clenched tightly, wringing uselessly together anxiously. His eyes were distant and despite the brisk wind, his cheeks were nearly as pale as the snow. Hermione frowned at the way his lips were stretched in a thin line, a far cry from the usual smirk on his face.

"Who's dead?" she asked hesitantly. "What do you mean?"

"I suppose it's to be expected," he said, his voice dazed. "He was a criminal and she was his accomplice, both loyal followers of the Dark Lord."

_His parents_, Hermione realized suddenly, her eyes widening slightly. Of course, she had seen it in the papers; a large group of former Death Eaters had been faced with the dementor's kiss in the past week, it just hadn't occurred to her that it would be someone close to Draco.

"Draco, I—"

"I know they weren't great people," he interrupted, "but they were they were my parents. They were all I had."

"You have me," Hermione interjected immediately.

To this, he said nothing as she gently brushed the accumulating snow off his shoulders, her hand lingering as she finished. With a reassuring squeeze, she fell back down beside him with a quiet sigh.

There was another strong gust of cold bitter wind, and almost instinctively they moved closer as it swept around them.

"I spent my entire life trying to impress my father," Draco said unexpectedly, the pain in his voice evident. "I needed to know that he accepted me as his son, that I wasn't a disappointment to him."

"I'm sure you weren't a disappointment, Draco," Hermione offered softly earning a scoff from her friend.

"I was," he said darkly. "All I could think about was becoming a Death Eater to impress him, but even when I did, I knew I was a disgrace to my father. He was ashamed that he had a weak son, a son who wasn't able to kill those unworthy to live and torture those unwilling to cooperate. I just couldn't live the life that was decided for me…"

His voice trailed off quietly.

"My mother was different," he continued quietly. "She was much more forgiving than my father, though never in the public eye."

"See," Hermione said quietly, "You're mother loved you."

A short sarcastic laugh from Draco surprised her.

"No," he amended, "She tolerated me because she thought I had the potential to lead the family to a higher status. My weakness balanced my father's cruel merciless lifestyle, and between the two, she hoped we would become the most powerful wizarding family in the world. Her forgiveness was just a part of a grander scheme. She manipulated me into thinking that we were obviously better because of our blood; she fed me lies and made sure I was a good puppet for the Dark Lord."

Hermione could think of no proper response, and merely stared at him, sympathy shining in her warm brown eyes.

"When things began to fall apart, they began to change," he continued quietly. "The stress was too much for my father and he would go days without speaking to anyone; he would simply sit and stare at the fire in our library, and when he did speak it was always in whispers. He was worried about the future of our family."

Draco glanced up at Hermione, the shadow a smile on his face.

"He was even worried about my future."

They sat in a comfortable silence as Hermione considered Draco's story before his voice broke through to her again.

"My mother was changed as well; though, the change was less desirable than my father's. She was no longer calm and poised; when things began to fall apart, she had no need to scheme her way through the Death Eaters. There would be nights when she would just start screaming at me for failing them, and then, she would just start sobbing, apologizing for being such a terrible mother."

Draco shuddered.

"It was awful seeing her like that," he admitted, before brushing a clump of snow out of Hermione's hair gently. "Seeing both of them like that."

She smiled sadly in response, watching as her friend's deep grey eyes began to fill with tears.

"And even though I lived my life searching for their respect and love," Draco said, his voice breaking, "I never took the chance to say that _I _loved _them._"

Hermione let her head fall against his shoulder in an unexpected show of companionship, unwilling to show him the tears that had formed in her own eyes. Their weeks of meeting, talking, and listening had provided both of them with a strong bond of friendship, and the proof was in the how much she longed to take away his anxiety.

"I'm sorry," she whispered gently, wishing it was enough, knowing it wasn't.

Draco sighed deeply before resting his head on Hermione's lightly.

"I know."

And the snow continued to fall.

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